[Healing practices are condemned as “witchcraft,” while pharmaceutical companies profit from the power of our plants].

In African-derived religions such as Candomblé and Umbanda, axé is the vital force that permeates all living beings, places, and things. It manifests with varying intensity, shaping nature and flowing dynamically through beings, objects, and relationships.

Caring for axé is essential—keeping it balanced and strong. Its resilience depends on many factors: the time one has lived, the correctness of one’s conduct, and the moment when the Ori—the personal divinity that guides each initiated person—is fully surrendered to its corresponding orixá. When axé weakens, it becomes vulnerable to being taken, directly affecting a person’s life force.

When appropriated without exchange, axé can quickly dissipate. The spark of life fades outside its transmission stream; sparks scatter and eventually extinguish. In Brazil, this reflects the historical exploitation of traditional knowledge, especially in the fields of pharmacology and medicine.

There are key pillars to sustaining strong axé. One is connection to ancestry—a sacred lineage that travels through generations and accompanied enslaved African people brought to Brazil. Despite oppression, they resisted and kept their faith in the orixás alive.

Another essential point is community care. Axé is generated, preserved, and shared in collectivity, in communities rooted in sacred knowledge and devotion.

Axé is found throughout nature, and every leaf contains healing power. In this context, Ossaim—also known as Ossanha—is the orixá of leaves, herbs, and the secrets of healing. Revered as the guardian of medicinal plants and enchantments, his wisdom is central to healing rituals and the preparation of remedies and spiritual tools in African-derived traditions.

According to a sacred tale (itã), Ossaim held exclusive knowledge of the curative powers of plants and refused to share it with other orixás. Without the leaves, they were unable to perform healing or protective rituals, which caused much frustration.

One day, Xangô, the king, decided it was time to redistribute this power. He consulted Exu, the orixá of communication, and enlisted the help of Iansã, who stirred a mighty wind that scattered Ossaim’s leaves across the Earth. Each orixá managed to gather a few leaves, gaining partial access to his sacred knowledge.

Even so, Ossaim remained the guardian of the axé of the leaves, and any ritual involving herbs still requires his permission and presence.

This itã teaches us how Ossaim—known for his cleverness, independence, and quiet strength—embodies the need to protect nature from exploitation. Still, sharing some of his secret was necessary so that more people could access the healing power of the leaves.

The leaf that heals and the leaf that poisons may be the same—the difference lies in the dosage and preparation. This is the ancestral wisdom of Black and Indigenous peoples.

As the granddaughter of a folk healer who treated my nausea with boldo tea, I honor all that the orixá allowed humans to learn. Especially in a country that, during its violent persecution of Afro-Brazilian religions, criminalized folk healing—a term that became pejorative and was unjustly linked to Ossaim.

At the same time, pharmaceutical companies from the Global North patented and profited from the active compounds of plants found in Brazilian forests, often drawing on the very same knowledge that had been criminalized. Cosmetic companies did the same—just like other sectors of capitalist society.

Faced with this insatiable hunger of colonial power, Ossaim must be a strategist—and no one is better than him at protecting nature’s secrets and precisely measuring what the forest can offer.

For the sake of the environment, some mysteries must remain mysteries.

Ewé, Ossaim!

Originally published in Folha de S.Paulo on September 5, 2024